


Nailed It!

by Tabithacraft



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Clexa, Doctor Clarke, F/F, Fluff and Humor, Reality TV, baker Lexa, cooking show clexa, nailed it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-14
Updated: 2018-04-14
Packaged: 2019-04-22 06:22:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,218
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14302731
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tabithacraft/pseuds/Tabithacraft
Summary: Clarke decides to take part in the new Netflix reality show Octavia is working on - a baking contest called Nailed It! She can't bake, but is convinced she can do anything she sets her mind to - including guest judge, baker, Lexa Woods - owner of "Quirky Cakes."





	Nailed It!

**Author's Note:**

> I have been working on Deserted. The next chapter is nearly done, but I binge watched this over Spring Break, and I had this in my head:)

**Nailed It!**

“You’re doing what?” Raven's nose was all scrunched up like she was smelling something really nasty. 

“Oh don’t look like that, the prize is $10,000 and O scored me a part,” Clarke pretended to wipe the look from her friend’s face with her palm but withdrew her hand hastily when Raven licked it.

“And it’s a cooking show?”

“A baking show. You know those posts, the ones where people try and create something they've seen and really fucked it up and they caption it with 'Nailed it?'"

“I’m familiar…I was at your house for Thanksgiving…”

“Hardy fucking ha,” Clarke rolled her eyes.

“So you’re thinking you’re gonna go on this show, bake some cakes and what? Nail it and win ten grand?”

“Exactly,” Clarke said with a nod of her head.

“Babe, that is never gonna happen.”

“I’m a doctor Rae. I follow instructions, I show initiative and I have a touch of creative. I used to be great at art. I’m totally gonna nail it.” 

“Like you nailed Octavia’s birthday cake?”

“It was meant to be flat.”

“And the Mother’s Day breakfast for your mom?”

“She liked it,” Clarke offered up defensively, mildly irritated by the insinuation that she hadn’t done a good job.

“Uh-huh,” Raven nodded. “So what’s the format of the show?”

“Three judges – the host - this comedian Nicole Byers, a professional judge and a guest professional judge. Three contestants. We do two rounds – bakers choice and then some big project. That’s all O will say.”

“Okay, congratulations Clarke, I’m happy for you...you'll do just great. But I guess what I don’t really get is why? When you're so busy and all?”

“Ten thousand dollars Rae!”

“You’re a doctor - one thats actually earning right now!”

“I’m an intern which means my hourly wage is less than minimum wage. And I'm driving around a piece of shit car that barely gets me anywhere,” Clarke shrugged. “I want a new old car, Rae!”

“You bike everywhere,” Raven laughed. 

“But it rains sometimes and I’m so tired sometimes…”

“You could uber…”

“Not to hiking sites. Not to the mountains when we board.”

“Fair point,” Raven conceded. “Last time sucked.”

“Big time.”

“Well, win big Griff,” Raven grinned. 

*** 

Clarke had signed her non-disclosure agreement and was cooling her heels with the other contestants, an attractive man called Lincoln – not really her type but Octavia couldn’t seem to stop staring, and an older woman who was the principal of a secondary school named Indra. Lincoln had already descended into the flirty cliché of hapless mechanic in need of Octavia’s reassurances that he hadn’t made a dreadful mistake in taking part. Clarke didn’t buy it for a second. Mechanics required order and logic, or so Raven argued, and the same intuition and creativity she was counting on. Lincoln was a fair competitor. However, it was Indra that Clarke considered her true foe. While she remained convinced that she would emerge triumphant, there was something about Indra’s steely determination that undermined her confidence.

“How long have you worked in education?” she asked to be friendly, but Indra looked anything but friendly.

“Since I graduated as a teacher, and I’ll probably be there until I die,” she nodded. “Someone’s gotta help these kids reach their potential.” Clarke had no doubt that Indra was the person to do it.

“Okay,” the host appeared, a sassy, beautiful African American woman by the name of Nicole Byer and before Clarke knew it they she was joined by the French chocolatier co-host and the guest expert judge, the owner of the distinguished bakery _Quirky Cakes_ , Lexa Wood.

“Wow,” Clarke didn’t mean to release the exclamation when she caught sight of the girl, and hoped that no one had heard. When she saw Octavia, stood in the shadows with a clipboard snickering, she knew the mic had picked it up, and she decided that as she had been caught she may as well not hide her appreciation of the gorgeous woman introducing herself. She couldn’t stop her eyes from roving head to toe and then back up again. The woman created quirky, eclectic and downright bizarre cakes, but she was all tough girl, no hipster, no hippy, no new age floatiness – she was all dark skinny jeans, leather jacket over a white razor back, and black biker boots, and Clarke’s heart screamed ‘ _gay_ ,’ with joy. Oh, but she was lovely, beyond the usual beautiful, with bewitching green eyes, gorgeous plump lips and a body that made Clarke’s burn hotter than the damn oven she’d be baking in. Clarke imagined covering that body with buttercream and licking it off. She was etherial and enchanting, especially laughing like an utter goddess with the host and that French chocolatier. She reminded herself to focus, to remember that Lexa Woods could be straight, could be an annoying professional judge who even if queer wouldn’t notice what had to be less than subtle interest, because she wasn't subtle, not at all when she could barely tear her eyes from the sexy brunette.

“Focus,” Octavia blew on her ear and Clarke tore her eyes from Lexa Woods, just as sparkling green eyes caught hers causing a flush of heat to flood all over her body, desire beating between her legs. It was ridiculous, but with her body tingling and her mind on a one way trip to sexy street, it was hard to remind herself that this was a purely animalistic attraction and her focus should be the ten thousand dollars, because in that first moment that she saw Lexa Woods, she wanted her more than ten thousand dollars, more than intern year to be over, more than anything. Sexually speaking of course.

“What you’re cooking we’re not giving out a trophy for,” Lexa winked and punctuated her words with a quick smile. The laughter bubbled up and out of Clarke, like chocolate our of a molten lava cake Lexa could probably bake to perfection.

“That’s a shame,” she gave a causal little shrug, watching Lexa turn her attention to the director, while biting back a smile.

“Okay, we’re going to begin filming. Remember to keep your reactions natural, remember to use the supplies and your tablets, and have fun.”

Clarke swallowed down some unexpected nerves, and found her eyes back on Lexa, who had her arms crossed as she casually leaned against the front of the judges table, ankles crossed and hands in her jeans pockets. Only this time when Clarke appraised her appreciatively from boots up, Lexa was looking right back at her, just a hint of amusement around her mouth.

“Don’t be nervous Clarke, you're a strong contestant,” Octavia appeared to give her some last words of enthusiasm. Clarke tore her eyes from Lexa and looked at her friend.

“Huh?”

“You’re gonna blow this competition if you can’t drag your eyes from that judge,” Octavia whispered.

“I’ve tried,” Clarke whispered back, “but holy _fucking whole damn package_ batgirl, she is all the motivation I need – if I can wow the underwear off her with my incredible baking…” she whistled softly.

“Hun, she can hear you – you’re wearing a mic.”

“Not sure I care,” Clarke was back to staring at Lexa who smirked in amusement.

“Hun, everyone can hear you,” Octavia clarified and Clarke managed to turn her attention to the other judges who were staring at her with wide smiles.

“Right, baking, lets get started, woo hoo, I’m ready to make cake,” Clarke babbled, fixing her eyes on the ceiling where there was no beautiful brunette to distract her.

“I like her attitude and pep,” the host concurred with a laugh, and then before Clarke knew it they were filming the opening scenes, including introductions and some chit chat, and then there was the reveal of the first task. Door number one opened and Clarke, for a moment, was as riveted as the other contestants on the actual task – cake pops. Clarke couldn’t quite hide her lack of appreciation for what she considered to be truly horrendous delicacies. The broken heart for divorce was okay of she was being generous, but the finger and ring symbolising engagement made her want to laugh because the finger looked like a very phallic finger, though the female lips and moustached male lips with the male tongue lolling out, indicative of the falling in love phase, were truly grotesque. She couldn’t understand why anyone would want to eat things that looked like that, though the tongue hanging out of the man’s mouth made it resemble labia and a vagina in a way, if you squinted. It was ‘contestants choice’ which meant she had to choose what monstrosity of a cake pop to make.

Before she knew it the countdown to race for them was on, and with a last look at Lexa’s utterly kissable lips, she managed to beat both Lincoln and Indra to the disgusting looking kissy face ring pops, an idea forming in her head. Ignoring the host’s babble, and the French chocolatier’s commentary, she tuned in only when Lexa Woods melodic voice was speaking, not that she could hear exactly what they were saying, more like snippits, over the whir of her mixer.

 “…buttercream to cake ratio…”

“…where her focus is….”

“….no moustache…”

Clarke grinned at that, the host’s confusion over her decision to make her four cake pops all woman - surely it was obvious if they'd heard her earlier.

“I think I know what she’s doing,” Lexa’s voice reached Clarke’s ears loud and clear, and there was raucous laughter when the other two cottoned on, perhaps theatrically late to the table for audience laughs.

“Subtle as a brick wall that one,” the host cooed.

“Oh I don’t think there’s any attempt to be subtle,” Lexa smirked.

“Too right,” Clarke sassed back, shooting a quick wink in the direction of pretty green eyes, as she attempted to sculpt Lexa’s pretty lips out of fondant. Considering she nearly went into art instead of medicine she was pretty pleased with the outcome. Of course they were a mere faded replica of the real thing which were pursed in amusement and standing right in front of her.

“You’ve done a good job,” Lexa told her. “You have a talent for fondant.”

“I have many talents...” she promised.

“I was always told doctors are good with their hands.”

“Surgeons maybe, but I’m not going to be a surgeon. I got a stray art gene,” she was flippant, but Lexa just appraised her.

“What are you going to be?”

“A paediatrician. They’re not just small humans, they’re like a whole different species,” she said, and then when the host called a five minute warning fluttered her lashes, “now stop distracting me beautiful, and let me finish my masterpiece. I’m trying to impress.”

Lexa leaned in and whispered in her ear, “success,” causing her body to tingle gloriously. Clarke paused for a second to watch the commanding judge tilt her chin in the air and show carefully masked disinterest in the other two contestants projects. Clarke smirked to herself, her motivation to complete the project successfully now driven by a desire to impress the judge and less by money. Impress her into bed.

***

Her pair of female kissing lips won her the golden bakers hat, and she was thrilled because they were glorious, far better than Indra’s over large hearts, and certainly better than Lincolns crudely crafted engagement box and ring with the ridiculous penis finger he'd managed to sculpt. Clarke didn’t mean to catch Octavia’s eye when he was _displaying_ his goods, but then she got the giggles, so when the judges finally arrived to judge her kissy lip cake pops, with the lolling tongue, and she pulled off her cover with a saucy, “nailed it,” she was still giggling, and she could just tell that Lexa wanted to giggle too, but she had masterful control, and instead gave the first comment.

“You’re a doctor with a background in art?”

“More like I’d have been an artist in an alternate life.”

“There is certainly skill here,” the chocolatier confirmed, “but you have half of the elements on there, but this one has no moustache.”

“Well you see this cake pop,” Clarke held up the one with its tongue sticking out and waggled it in an approximation of a dance, “well she’s not interested in male mouths.”

“Like the creator?” Lexa crossed her arms and gave her a look, that had her heart thudding and her thighs clenching.

“Yeah, that’s right,” Clarke concurred and Nicole the host laughed loudly.

“This show is _Nailed It_ , not _The Bachelorette_ ,” she informed them.

“Nicole, I am trying to Nail It,” Clarke offered confidently, her words interpretable in a few different ways, and Lexa definitely got the right one because she blushed as everyone, including Indra and Lincoln laughed.

“Let’s add smooth tongue to the list of this girls skills,” Nicole waggled her eyebrows theatrically.

“They are beautiful but you missed the elements…” the French chocolatier again.

“It’s 2018, if my cake pop lady wants another cake pop lady to give a sugar kiss too, that’s okay, right?”

“Fine by me,” Nicole concurred.

“Cake pops and kiss whatever kind of cake pop they want in my opinion,” the French chocolatier said with a big smile, and then they all turned to Lexa.

“You think the openly gay baker would take issue with lady lips on lady lips?”

“We concur, no elements have been missed,” the French accent really did make the words sound fancier than they were.

The judges then got everyone to scooch down and then they gave Clarke her crown – or golden bakers hat, and she’d made a big show of putting it on, flicking her hair back and leaning forward just for the moment she could catch Lexa checking out her cleavage, green eyes glancing down for a second, before catching hers, pupils dilated.

***

As door number two opened Clarke’s heart rate spiked, her adrenalin kicking in because there was no way she’d be impressing Lexa with her own version of one of Lexa’s quirky cakes. The cake was more quirky fairy grotto than cake, with toadstools, and a rainbow interior, and sculpted leaves, with intricate details. The cake wasn’t decorated to be the grotto, the cake was a grotto, the cake was branches and a cave, and it was magical and beautiful, and just wonderful.

“Awesome,” Lincoln whistled.

“Hmmm,” Indra was peering, as if analysing the best route of attack. “That…that is a challenge.”

“No kidding,” Nicole laughed.

“I like a challenge,” Indra concurred.

“Well you’re all going to have your work cut out,” Nicole then elaborated on all that they were expected to achieve, and Clarke had to remind herself to look at the cake instead of its creator.

***

Lexa watched the contestants attempt to recreate her masterpiece, the reminder to watch _all_ the contestants a constant refrain in her head. Clarke was… _captivating._ Making the cake pops she had followed the instructions to the letter, like a surgeon following the exact protocol, and her cake pops were a beautiful, queer masterpiece. Clarke herself was a beautiful queer masterpiece. And she, Lexa Woods, Ms. Calm Under Pressure, the Commander herself, was a queer mess, desperate for the eye contact, _the eye fucking,_ the flirty comments, _in that goddamn sexy voice,_ the cleavage, _holy fuck the cleavage_ , all of it had Lexa’s head spinning, body desperate, mind working overtime to try and remember every snippet of information about who Clarke was, and use it to build an image of the woman currently making what were going to be the worst cakes ever, as she didn’t look at the recipe and overfilled the tins without greasing them adequately.

“What is going on with Clarke and those cakes?” Nicole had snuck up beside her and Lexa flushed at the realisation she’d been caught staring.

“Uh…she seems to be rushing the cake part.”

“And why do you think she’s doing that?”

“Probably to get onto the fondant sculpting where she knows she’ll excel,” Lexa murmured, wincing as Clarke shoved the cakes in the oven, tongue poking out as she concentrated, murmuring about rainbows, and fondant, and sculpting the ass out of fairies and mushrooms.

“What’s she thinking she’ll put these sculptures on because that cake aint going to bake?”

“It’s going to look more like Yoda’s swamp than anything else at the moment,” Lexa answered, a faint smile forming at the sight of Clarke’s utter concentration as she created a fairy, the girl even had icing sugar on her face, and down her front. It was a good thing she wasn’t going to be a surgeon because Lexa imagined she’d be a very messy one. However, with that bright smile, those sparkling eyes and the sense of mischief Lexa could imagine she’d be wonderful with children.

“What do you make of what Indra’s doing?” Nicole asked and Lexa flushed wildly because it had been a long while since she’d turned her attention to either Indra or Lincoln, a fact she quickly rectified.

***

Lexa stood watching Clarke, utterly mesmerized. She was a whirlwind of destruction, a localised tornado, pulling pans of sloppy cake mix out of the oven with a face of fierce determination. Lexa barely acknowledged the other two judges beside her as they all stood with slightly open mouths and watched as the woman greased more pans and tried to inelegantly scoop some of the half cooked cake mix into them.

“I made them too full and they weren’t going to cook, so I’m trying to fix that,” Clarke explained to the camera.

“Do ya think it’s gonna work?” Nicole hollered and Clarke looked at her with a grin and a casual shrug.

“I haven’t got the faintest foggiest but I’m hoping so. I figure it may not look pretty but I’ll have something to work with and I’m covering it with fondant and buttercream anyway,” she smiled gamely, and Lexa just shook her head.

“She hasn’t read the instructions at all,” Lexa murmured and Nicole giggled.

Jacque the French chocolatier muttered, “it is mistake after mistake – she is more concerned with the appearance than the taste. Indra, she has followed the instructions precisely and her cakes look perfect and are almost done.”

“Lincoln has already removed his from the oven and has begun sculpting the details, though I’m not sure what kinda trees he’s been around. You a city boy?” Nicole yelled.

“You know it,” Lincoln yelled back and Clarke turned and smiled at him, something that warmed Lexa’s insides.

“Looking good City Slicker,” Clarke called across to him.

“Says the wearer of the golden hat,” Lincoln sassed back.

“Oh this girl is all over the place,” Indra said seriously, looking unamused, but then she threw Clarke a wink.

“Oh I’m drowning in my uncooked cake,” Clarke concurred. “But my fairy is beautiful, and my rainbow cave will be outstanding.”

“And what will they go on, Gold Hat?” Indra smirked and Clarke gave as good as she got.

“We could combine forces…my perfect accessories on your perfect cake!”

“No fair, what about me?” Lincoln called from further up.

“You could compile everything - your shape is amazing,” Clarke offered and Lincoln smiled.

“Construction is my strength,” he nodded looking at his perfectly sculpted cake.

“Now, now, no joining forces, there can be only one winner,” Nicole chastised jokingly.

“Spoil sport,” Clarke stuck out her tongue and Lexa felt it, as if they were naked in bed together and Clarke were between her legs. Astute as ever, Nicole read the room, and put an arm around Lexa.

“I feel there may be some collaboration between you and that one later,” she teased, waggling a finger at Clarke, who looked up and winked.

“I’ve got everything crossed hoping for that,” Clarke’s dulcet tones rendered Lexa momentarily useless, especially the indication that she was crossing everything because with that naughty look in her eyes, Lexa knew exactly why her legs would be crossed. This girl was smart, sassy and utterly sexy. And just terrible at baking.

***

 Clarke stared at her four tins of overcooked, thin and crispy cake and sighed.

“Onward, onward…” she mumbled, batting the tins and groaning when the cakes didn’t come out and then attacking them with a knife. “So what if they’re not pretty, they’ll taste good.”

***

They didn’t taste good. On appearances Clarke’s cake was a winner. Lincolns was structurally the best, most like Lexa's, but he’d actually over buttercreamed, it was the wrong colour and the wrong consistency and his fondant crafting was a mess. Indra was amazing with her icing – the buttercream was almost as good as her own would be, but the shape was poor and though Indra had all the necessary elements, they were crudely crafted. Clarke’s shape was touch and go, and while the colour of her buttercream was nice, the consistency was questionable. However, the fondant accessories were amazing. Not as good as Lexa would craft herself, but impressive none-the-less, and with a little bit of quirk that appealed greatly to her. Clarke appealed in general.

The tasting sealed it. Lexa couldn’t give Clarke the $10,000 even though she desperately wanted to because her cake tasted like an excess of flour, the texture like sawdust in her mouth, while the buttercream made her gag, an action that caused the beautiful doctor’s face to fall.

“It’s…uh…”

“What?” Clarke’s face was so hopeful.

“A little dry…I think maybe too much flour, and not enough fat and did you use sugar?”

“That bad?” Clarke’s face fell and she theatrically stuck out her bottom lip which tugged at Lexa's heart.

“Honey, your buttercream is like swallowing bile and uncooked egg white,” Nicole actually gagged.

“Really?” Clarke turned with wide eyes to Lexa, her face beseeching, in need of honesty.

“In a different setting the texture isn’t all bad,” she began and watched Clarke’s eyes widen a fraction, and her lips twitch, “but on this cake…it’s..er…got room for improvement.”

“I accept that,” Clarke grinned. “And not winning the ten thousand, though there are ten digits that would provide wonderful compensation…”

Lexa laughed loudly, as did everyone else. “Oh, they’re yours,” she slid her business card from her back pocket and handed it to Clarke.

“I better keep this safe,” Clarke slid it into her bra, and Lexa’s eyes tracked the movement, her heart rate picking up and her vision momentarily lost in soft, plump flesh.

“And we better announce the winner,” Nicole gripped her shoulders and turned her, so she lifted her head and eyes from Clarke’s impressive cleavage.

“The winner, yes…” Lexa blinked a couple of times trying to escape her lust addled haze.

“We judges have got to confer, so hang tight…not you Clarke, you can relax – you got your ten digits,” Nicole teased and Lexa turned and watched a red flush on the girls cheeks, and she had to admit she was smitten.

“Focus Woods,” Nicole dragged her away, before announcing Indra the winner and getting Lexa to shoot her with dollar bills.

***

Lexa’s eyes were screwed tightly shut, her mind blissfully void of everything but the sensations Clarke was creating between her legs with a mouth that wasn’t just sassy, sexy and smart but sinfully sensual.

“My brain is alliterating,” she moaned, and there was a momentary interruption to sensation as Clarke laughed.

“That a good thing, right?” the sultry voice nearly pushed Lexa over the edge, especially when she opened her eyes to see blue eyes staring at her, eyes so blue they were like some glacial lake.  

“You’re amazing,” she whispered, stunned by the romance of it all, of the show's after party, the dates that followed, the many heated make out sessions, sex – endless sex, and talking, holding heads, sitting watching life together, finding the movies they liked and the ones they didn’t, attempting to teach Clarke to bake and instead learning that she was her favourite person to bake for. She was stunned by how hard her heart beat for someone and how strongly she just knew this girl, this girl who couldn’t bake was perfect for her.

“Let me finish,” Clarke rolled her eyes, full of affection. Clarke had been warm and open from the outset, clear in her attention and affections.

“Go ahead, ba…by,” she stuttered on the last word as Clarke’s mouth pressed against her, as her tongue swirled, and her mouth caressed, and Lexa couldn’t think or focus because she was so close, and it felt so good and all Clarke had to do was that thing where her tongue dived in and then she nipped and Lexa lost it, crying out, hips rising into Clarke’s face. “Fuuuck,” she mumbled, body responding to Clarke’s more gentle movements. She whimpered when Clarke removed her mouth.

“Nailed it,” she all but sang and Lexa flopped like a rag doll on the bed releasing a breathless chuckle.

“You don’t need to say that every time I come,” she wrapped her arms around Clarke’s naked form as the girl shuffled up the bed to lie on her.

“Oh I do,” Clarke said simply, resting her head against Lexa’s chest.

"You really did," Lexa concurred happily. "But it's my turn to nail it, now!"


End file.
